


Destiney's Fan

by linda92595



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:05:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linda92595/pseuds/linda92595
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final battle in the war is almost over. Sam has fallen to the dark side and Dean and Castiel come to destroy him. Sam offers Dean an alternative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiney's Fan

The room was dark and surprisingly cool considering it was a portal to Hell. Dean stood, back pressed against the moss covered stone, waiting, not quite patiently, for the angel to arrive. They had made it through this far, Dean and Castiel tracking Sam and Ruby to this final battleground. It was an old Anastazi pueblo in southern New Mexico. And Castiel had brought Dean news the day before that the final Seal was buried somewhere here in the ancient ruins.

 

Sam and Ruby had beaten them to the punch. And Dean was still reeling from the betrayal. But he had no choice but to believe the angel now when Castiel told him that Sam was beyond all salvaging. Time had simply turned against them. The hunters and angels gathered for the final battle were losing, and badly. Dean fully expected to die here. His only regret was that he had never told the angel how he really felt about him. But Castiel remained inviolable, a calm, steadying….perhaps even loving presence but untouchable.

 

Dean had so badly wanted to change that. Now it was too late. He had already seen his angel fallen in battle once, and it was only by Uriel’s grace that Castiel had survived. Dean owed the other angel for that he supposed.

 

A quiet rustle of cloth behind him pulled the hunter from his thoughts. He hissed as a warm body pressed tightly against his back and turned his head looking over his shoulder. Castiel shot Dean a look more solemn that anything the human could ever remember.

 

“I know that this will be hard for you Dean. But you must not falter. I will do all I can to remove this burden from you if you feel that you cannot do what must be done.”

 

“No, he’s my brother. I’ll do what I have to do, but let me make the decision. If I can’t reach him…”

 

“Dean he’s beyond reach. In your heart you know this. Let me take this from you. Let me be the one.” Castiel was almost pleading now. Dean could see unshed tears welling in his eyes. And that was when he knew beyond a doubt that the angel loved him. Silently he pressed a hand against the angel’s shoulder, holding him in place for a few minutes more. Then gently he lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips under the line of Castiel’s jaw, tipping his face up those few inches Dean needed to press their lips together. Castiel returned the kiss slowly, clumsily, but with no less desperation.

 

“I’ll do it Cas, have a little faith in me.”

 

“I always have, Dean.”

 

 

They crept down the hall side by side toward the largest room at the end of the winding corridor. There was light there, bright red, painting the fading yellow adobe in garish bloody scarlet. And now the heat struck Dean, crawled over his body in palpable waves, making his head spin. And for one brief minute he was back in Hell, red blood washing his skin, heat curled in his belly. The hunter cringed.

 

Then a cool hand was on his arm, and he turned. Castiel’s eyes were dark blue, wide and calming as the cool quiet of the ocean on a hot summer’s day. And Dean blinked swallowing hard. Turning he pulled the knife out of the waistband of his jeans and plunged into the room.

 

Demons were waiting for them, more than the two of them could handle even with Castiel’s angel mojo on their side. The two closest to the door set on the angel right away even as Dean ran toward the figure standing beside the rough hewn altar cut into the living rock of the far wall.

 

Sam turned, eyes glowing yellow in the red-washed light. Holding up a hand Dean found himself bogged down, unable to move. He wasn’t slammed against the wall, but he couldn’t do more than turn his head either.

 

“Sam, you’ve got to stop this,” he gasped. Sam cocked his head then shot Dean a small smile.

 

“Look, behind you.”

 

Dean turned his head, and behind him, just inside the door he could see four demons surrounding the angel. They bore Castiel to the ground a glowing yellow sword pressed against his chest. Lucifer’s sword, one of the few weapons that could kill an angel. Dean winched. Sam raised a hand and the demons stilled. Castiel was spread out on the ground, tan trench coat splayed around his body in the vague semblance of his wings, the tip of the sword pressed against his heart.

 

“Dean, listen to me. You might not die here today, but he will. I can guarantee that.”

 

“Don’t, Sammy…please don’t kill him.”

 

“I have to Dean. I don’t have a choice. But I can give you one.”

 

Castiel struggled briefly and Dean’s eyes shot to the angel, silently pleading with him to be still, keep the sword from his flesh. “Don’t listen to him Dean. He is the Prince of all Lies. He’ll kill us anyway.”

 

Sam shrugged, “Just do me the courtesy of listening Dean, it’ll only take a few minutes, and you can save yourself, and him.”

 

Dean’s shoulders slumped, and Sam smiled again.

 

“Do you remember me telling you about the Fan of Destiny? It was years ago so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t. You didn’t always pay attention when you should have. I guess that’s kinda how we got here.”

 

“Save me the lecture, Sammy. What have you got in mind?”

 

“Okay here’s the deal, Heaven, Hell, Earth they’re all parallel dimensions, Dean. They exist in the same space simultaneously but on different, parallel dimensions. You sort of understand that right.”

 

“I’m not an idiot, Sam. I do remember you talking about this, a way long time ago. Some theory you and Bobby had cooked up.”

 

“Good, so we’re on even ground so far. But here’s the important part. Some scholars theorize that time is fluid; it moves forward according to the choices that people make. That the time line runs like the different folds on a fan. And the future unfolds depending on which one of the folds you travel. That all those other destinies still exist but just remain unfolded. What if I could send you to one of those parallel lines of destiny, and him too so that things are different. This never happens. I’d fit you both in seamlessly. You’ll remember that you don’t belong there, but he’ll forget. You can have what you always wanted Dean. Whether or not you believe that you’ve wanted it.”

 

“And what happens here to this time line?”

 

“What happens is what’s gonna happen anyway. You can’t stop it. Even now the last Seal is being broken, it’s over for you here, Dean. But I can give you something else; say a nice parting gift, just for old time’s sake.”

 

Castiel thrashed beneath the demons hold and the sword dug into his chest. He screamed in pain. Winching Dean turned back to Sam.

 

“Make them stop Sammy. Please, don’t let them kill him. Okay…I’ll do it.”

 

“I’ll give you a couple of days to get an idea of how things are, then I’ll make contact and see if you want to stay that way or come back here. But here isn’t gonna be anything you’ll want believe me.”

 

Groaning Dean sagged back as Sam pressed his hand against his brother’s chest. All the air drained out of Dean’s lungs and for one brief moment he felt as if he was drowning on dry land. Then his head spun and he passed out.

 

 

Dean rolled over coming awake with a nagging pain in his chest and a cramp in his side. The faint stirrings of a headache were beginning to gather behind his brows and he grunted. Then he realized that he was laying in bed, the comforter and sheets twisted around his hips and legs. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and the red numbers flicked to six am.

 

The other side of the bed was empty but there were clear signs that it hadn’t been, and the pale, fresh stains on the pastel blue sheets indicated that whoever had shared the bed with Dean they’d had a good time. Grunting again he rolled upright pulling his body up until his back rested against the headboard and then something hit him. The scent of frying bacon was drifting into the room, from somewhere down the hall. And he could hear whistling, low and little off key, but a steady beat, some sixties pop sounding thing as best he could remember. He grimaced. Who the hell whistled at six o’clock in the morning?

 

“Hey, Dean…” the voice was clear as a bell, brightly cheerful, and definitely Castiel. “Come on, honey, you’re gonna be late and your dad will be pissed off at me if you make him wait.”

 

“What?” Dean gasped. Suddenly a face appeared at the door to the bedroom…Castiel, hair as disheveled as ever, blue eyes dancing with mirth. A slow lascivious smile crawled across his face, leaving Dean enervated and wanting.

 

But the angel, Dean flinched, other man… pulled back. “Oh no…not again. We don’t have time for that. I mean it, get your butt in the shower your dad’s gonna be here to pick you up any minute now.”

 

Flicking on the lights Castiel disappeared down the hall in the direction of the scent of food and Dean rolled to his feet, dropping the bedclothes onto the mattress. The bathroom was warm, and the shower felt like the closest thing to Heaven he could remember, but he didn’t take long. Curiosity winning over confusion as he cleaned up, shaved and headed to the doors of the walk-in closet on far wall.

 

Quickly Dean sorted through the clothes inside, although someone with more organizational skills than he clearly possessed had arranged the racks neatly. One side was filled with smaller clothing, and Dean supposed those belonged to Castiel.

The other side was clearly for his clothing. Stuff that he was prone to wearing, jeans and flannel shirts. No tees, but those were probably in a dresser drawer. At the front of the rack were several dark blue mechanic’s uniforms in clear dry cleaning bags. Dean pulled one off the hanger and began dressing, it felt right.

 

He sat down on the bed pulling on his socks and steel-toed work boots. Suitably dressed Dean stood then paused at the sight of two framed documents on the top of the dresser. One was a double sided frame containing a picture of him and Castiel dressed in dark suits standing side by side.

 

The second picture was of him and Castiel along with his mom and dad, and Dean gasped. Both parents alive, smiling with him and the angel. Although Dean was beginning to suspect that here, wherever that was, Castiel was as human as the rest of them.

 

The other frame was larger, wooden and not as intricately carved as the frame holding the photos. Inside it was a white document, printed, and Dean scanned it with widening eyes.

It was a marriage certificate, Dean Winchester and Castiel Clemente joined in Holy Matrimony some five years earlier.

 

Glancing down Dean gaped, not only was he wearing his silver ring on his right hand but a gold wedding band on the left. He twisted the ring around his finger enough to see that there was a tan line under it. Obviously the ring was never taken off. He grinned. Him and Cas married. That was a kick.

 

“Dean!” Castiel’s voice was strident, a little pissy and he flinched. “Come eat now, I have to leave for work in a few minutes.”

 

“I’m comin’…baby.”

 

Cas’s voice died down as a resounding knock rattled the door. He could hear another voice, deep, gruff and slightly accented and Dean had to wrap his arms around his sides to keep himself upright.

 

The door closed and the sound of heavy footsteps patting across the floor carried to

Dean’s ears. And then a face popped around the corner of the door, grinning for all he was worth and the breath whooshed out of Dean’s body in one long soundless sigh.

 

“Get a move on, boy. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

 

“Yes, sir…” Dean whispered and the feeling was so familiar that it made his hands tremble. Gulping in a breath he followed the broad back down the hall and into the brightly lit kitchen. Castiel was already sitting at the table gulping down orange juice and reading the morning paper.

 

There were two more plates set out loaded with bacon, pancakes and scrambled eggs, and cups of steaming coffee beside. John slid into a seat and patted Castiel on the leg.

 

“I’m glad you married someone who can cook worth a damn,” he said winking at

Dean. And Dean nodded wordlessly. John snagged the sports section from under

Cas’s hand and the younger man shot him a look then sighed. He dug into his food with gusto.

 

Dean flinched, “Doesn’t …” he paused, just because he had seen his mother in the picture taken five years ago, it didn’t mean that she was still alive. So Dean fumbled until John handled the problem by sighing.

 

“I’ll sure be glad when your mom gets back from Aunt Delores’.” Then he grinned at Dean “But she still can’t cook as good as Cas here.”

 

His father’s good mood was infectious and Dean grinned back at him, “I guess there was a reason I married him after all.”

 

Castiel shot him a look over the top of the paper then flipped him off behind his dad’s back. Dean almost fell out of the chair. Picking up the fork he all but inhaled the food, Castiel watching with disapproving eyes.

 

“At least you could taste it going down.”

 

John was wiping the last of the syrup off his plate with a remnant of pancake as Dean finished his food. The elder Winchester rose patting Cas on the shoulder and Dean slugged back as much of the coffee as he could without spraying it all over the front of his shirt then leaned down kissing Castiel on the top of his head.

 

“Hey, you got syrup in my hair.”

 

“How can you tell with all that gel in it?” Dean snickered, “Sorry to leave you with the dishes.”

 

“You say the same thing every morning. That’s okay the hedges need trimming and guess whose job that’s gonna be?”

 

Dean winched, “Yeah see you later.”

 

Castiel rose and began clearing the table, “Yeah, love you.”

 

“Love you too baby.”

 

 

Following his dad outside Dean cast a glance at the driveway to the house. The Impala was sitting there beside a smaller, newer car. Something practical and efficient… probably Castiel’s. Dean smiled; it was just the sort of thing that he thought the angel would drive if he had ever driven a car, back there. His smile died on his lips, but John waved him into his truck and Dean hauled the door open settling into the cab beside his father.

 

It wasn’t long before Dean realized that they were in Lawrence. The familiar streets unfolding around him like some long forgotten memory coming to life. He settled back letting his father’s rough voice roll over him. “We got a lot to do today so I hope that idiot Jerry doesn’t screw around and show up late. I want you to finish up on that caddy, we promised it back this morning.”

 

“Yeah, sure Dad.”

 

“You okay boy?” John asked noting the frown crawling over Dean’s face, “You and Cas didn’t have a fight did you?”

 

“No, no everything’s okay. Dad how come you and Mom didn’t make more of a fuss when I married Cas?”

 

“Why should we? He’s a good boy, and you love him. And God, I think that boy believes the sun rises and falls on your command.”

 

“Yeah, that’s my angel. He always had more faith in me than I did.”

 

They pulled up in front of an auto shop and Dean gaped at the sign painted on the roof of the building. Winchester’s Auto Service it proclaimed in bright yellow letters. The shop had a chain link fence around it and a vacant lot behind. His Dad slipped out of the truck unlocking the gate and rolling it back, and then he hopped in and pulled the truck inside.

 

There were four bays in the garage and a small attached office building, with a seating area and Dean could see bathrooms at the rear of a small hallway. Behind a counter was a computer, telephone and the cash register.  Just as he turned toward the garage area a small, slender young woman strolled in.

 

“Good morning, Dean…Mr. Winchester.”

 

It was a good thing his dad answered because Dean would have been left standing there fumbling for her name. And how could he explain not knowing these people? It was going to be tough for a while, but he’d put some of those hunting skills John had drilled into his head to good use for a change, and things would fall in place.

 

“Mornin’, Jenny. Let’s get this place opened for business.”

 

 

The day passed quickly, familiar sights and sounds washing over Dean, and he began to relax. Glancing over at his father’s form hunched over, elbows deep in a Ford Escort, he smiled to himself. This was so different, maybe it was how things would have been if…Dean froze swallowing hard. He didn’t want to think about it, but his dad had never once mentioned Sam. What had happen here in this world that was different from the world Dean knew and understood? He desperately wanted to know but he didn’t know how to ask this smiling, good natured man working quietly beside him. Could he just look John in face and say “Hey Dad, what happened to my little brother? Where is Sammy?”

 

In the end he didn’t know how to do it, and he decided to wait until they could have a quiet conversation, as if he had ever had anything like that with John before. Still with his sleeves rolled up, hands slick with oil, and grease under his fingernails Dean felt some of the tension draining out of his body. By noon he had the Cadillac purring like a well stroked kitten, and tossed a greasy rag onto the Formica counter top behind him. Leaning back he watched John cuss at the Ford’s engine, grinning for all he was worth. His father shot him a glare over one shoulder, “Yeah, yeah you got the easy one.”

 

“I think I’m gonna walk down to Rudy’s and pick up a burger. You want anything?”

 

John paused rapping the wrench he was holding on the stubborn bolt, “Just bring me back whatever you’re havin’.”

 

The air was clear and cool, but not cold although Lawrence in March could sometimes be under s few feet of snow, but the sky overhead was anything but cloudy, a clear bright blue bell stretching as far overhead as he could see. Dean picked up the pace a little, and in a short time found himself at Rudy’s Burger Shack, a crappy looking little hole in the wall that produced the finest burgers found anywhere in the city.

 

He ordered two combos, heavy on the onions for himself and a couple of Cokes. Although John would probably bitch about the soda wanting coffee instead, but the pot had that crusty too long on the burner look and Dean knew the coffee would taste like crap.

 

 

At three o’clock the green sedan from the house pulled up in front of the shop, and Dean glanced out the garage bay doors as Castiel stepped out of the car. He was dressed remarkably similar to what Dean was accustomed to seeing him including the tan trench coat, although this one fit better than the other one. He looked so similar that for a minute Dean stopped what he was doing, and just stood staring.

 

With a sigh John leaned back against the hood of the truck he was working on now, and shot his son a look, “You finished?”

 

“Yeah this one’s done.”

 

“Well, then you just might as well go on home with Cas, but I expect dinner in exchange for time off.”

 

“You were coming to dinner anyway, John” Castiel said with a sigh, then he leaned a little way in toward Dead and he got the clue that he was supposed to kiss Cas. But the smaller man kept an arm’s length away to avoid grease or oil on his spotless white dress shirt.

 

Dean took a few minutes to wash up while John chatted with Cas. They seemed at ease with each other, and Dean could hear Castiel complaining about something that happened in class that day, leading Dean to wonder if the other man was a teacher.

 

When he was washed Dean appeared in the garage, waiting while his father and Castiel finished their conversation then reminding his dad that he’d see him at dinner time. Cas walked around to the driver’s side of the car and Dean folded himself into the front seat. He could see two brown canvas bags of groceries and a black mesh and fiber bag that looked like it might house a laptop on the rear seat.

 

 

It took them fifteen minutes to get back to the house and Castiel unlocked the doors while Dean fetched the groceries out of the back. He dropped the bags onto the kitchen table while the other man carried his laptop into the living room down the opposite hall to their bedroom.

 

Stripping his shirt off Dean winched at the smell, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

 

Castiel smiled but Dean gently grabbed his hand, “Come with me.”

 

“Dean?” Castiel said cocking his head in that oh so familiar way, his eyes questioning. Dean swallowed again breath caught in his throat.

 

“Come with me. God, Cas, I want you so bad.”

 

Castiel flushed a deep pink, and it was totally endearing. But his eyes were sparkling as he stepped forward, “Okay, you have me anyway you want me Dean.  You know that.”

 

Dean managed to keep his hands mostly to himself as they made it down the hall trading kisses as they slowly stripped, leaving a trail of clothing in the floor. At least Cas’s shirt made it to the bedroom door without any collateral damage, but the silky golden skin of his chest was marred by greasy fingerprints.

 

The water was hot and Dean groaned appreciatively as he stepped into the shower, Castiel slipped in behind him and they huddled together letting the water cascade over them. Dean picked up the soap working up a good lather before scrubbing his hands and arms clean. Then he bent down taking time to clear the dirty fingerprints off the smaller man’s chest. Castiel stood still letting Dean’s hands roam over his body with practiced ease. He flinched laughing when Dean worked a thumb into the space between his ribs scrubbing at a particularly stubborn mark, then sighed as Dean’s hand drifted lower stroking his still flaccid cock.

 

Dean was half hard already and Castiel seemed to be catching up, when Dean stroked him with a soapy hand. Grunting Castiel turned wrapping one arm around Dean’s waist pulling their bodies close together. Dean slid his hand from between them stroking the silky skin at Castiel’s hip, and then sipping his fingers down the soft crease of his ass.

 

Dean spread his legs, letting the smaller man grind into him, rubbing their cocks together, then he pressed forward and his finger slid into Castiel to the first knuckle. The other man’s body parted easily for Dean as if they had done this many times before, and Dean panted. In this world they had done this before, had been doing it for at least the last five years if not longer. Then his mind blanked as Castiel ground his cock against Dean, rocking forward hips jerking then pushing himself back, fucking himself on Dean’s finger.

 

He set a pretty steady pace and Dean spread his legs wider giving the other man room to work, before long he felt his balls draw up and he cried out as he came. Castiel rocked himself back, head falling back baring this throat to Dean and pushed Dean’s finger all the way inside his body. Dean curled down hitting the other man’s prostate and Castiel uttered a short, sharp sound as he climaxed spraying come all over Dean’s belly.

 

They stood shivering and panting until Dean realized that the water was going cold around them. Quickly he reached back turning the spigot off, and pushed the curtain back. Grabbing one of the big fluffy towels off the rack he chafed it against Castiel’s skin until the other man pinked up nicely and stopped shivering. Then he grabbed a towel for himself, following Cas out of the shower.

 

“Not that I’m complaining but where did that come from?” Castiel said sighing.

 

Grinning Dean pulled him into a hug. “I just needed you that’s all. I feel like this is all new, I just can’t believe that you love me.”

 

“Of course I love you Dean; I have always loved you since I first set eyes on you.”

 

Shuddering Dean stepped back trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. He had waited for so long to hear Cas say that to him, and yet this Castiel wasn’t the same as the one from the world he left behind. This man was warm, loving, the perfect partner, and yet he wasn’t an angel. He hadn’t pulled Dean from hell, had he? Then Dean paused, He really didn’t know what his life before he had married this wonderful man had been, maybe he had been miserable and lonely. Maybe Castiel has saved him from a different kind of hell here.

 

“Hey, Cas do you remember the day we met?” he said snuggling against the smaller form. Castiel let out an oomph as Dean’s heavier weight made him stagger a bit, then wriggled away.

 

“Sure,” Castiel frowned. “Honey, are you alright? You’re not having a bad dreams or anything are you? Should I call Doctor Bennet?”

 

Dean grasped that word and held onto it hard. So there had been something. Narrowing his eyes he shook his head, “No I feel okay. I was just thinkin’.”

 

“About…Sam?”

 

So here it comes. A slow shiver crawled down the length of Dean’s spine. He nodded briefly feeling his gut churn. Castiel smiled gently brushing his fingers against the taller man’s cheek, “We can take flowers out to the cemetery if you want. I know you like to go alone, but I’ll go with you if you need me.”

 

Sighing Dean thought about it, but it made sense to him. Here in this world Sam never became the “Boy King” for whatever reason. Either his mother never made her deal, or something stopped Azazel from collecting, or Sam died in the fire that night instead of his mother.

 

But for some reason John never started hunting and Dean’s life unfolded in this little Kansas town the way it might well have in the other time line. So there was no apocalypse here, no angels walking the Earth, but Sam had fitted Castiel into his brother’s life as seamlessly as he had said, making him a human, making him an important part of Dean’s life.  Something to take away the sting of losing Sammy he supposed. But was it worth it?

 

That night after dinner Castiel was preoccupied going over the next day’s activities for his classes. Dean had snickered quietly when he discovered that Cas was a kindergarten teacher at the Lawrence First Baptist Church Academy, no less. It seemed that Sam hadn’t removed him too far from his devout faith in God, just a mortal version.  Dean crept into their bedroom and began rifling through drawers looking for some clue about his life.

 

At the foot of their bed was a large cedar chest, something that Dean vaguely remembered as being called a Hope chest by his mother. He thought that it might be the one that had stood in his grandmother’s house, but his memories of before the fire in his other life were so muted that he couldn’t be sure. He pawed through the contents and came up with photo albums and yearbooks from Lawrence High School.

 

It seemed that he and Castiel had known each other since high school in this life. The photos proved it. There were pictures in the yearbooks of Dean in football and baseball uniforms, and pictures of his gentle angel running school charity events and in debate club or science club. So Cas was a bookworm, and a little bit of a nerd. From the look on his face in the photos Dean still had fallen for him hard.

 

There were the yearbook photos and pictures take by one or both parents of Dean and Castiel in dark suits, prom pictures, taken by a photographer at some hotel reception room filled with dorky looking teenagers in tuxes and formalwear, pretty girls in frilly dresses. All the things that Dean never remembered having, but something that maybe just maybe he had secretly longed for.

 

He dug a little deeper and came up with another album, cream colored and elegant looking; he recognized it as their Wedding Album. He flipped the book open and devoured the pictures one by one. Him and Castiel at the altar, dressed in Tuxes. His dad standing beside him. The only thing that was odd was the fact that throughout the pictures there where many photos of Dean and his parents, with or without Castiel but the other man seemed to not have any family there. But they looked deliriously happy. And Dean was satisfied that they had a good life together.

 

Gently placing the Wedding Album aside he picked up one of the other photo albums and began pouring over the images inside. They were typical family photos of his childhood. Dean as a baby… his parents and grandparents at his side. Shots of him growing up, a year old, first birthday party chocolate cake spread all over his face. Sticky fingers clasping his father’s shirt leaving dark smears and stains.  His first haircut accompanied by a lock of silky blonde hair. School photos and then what he was really looking for. Pictures of his mother pregnant again. But looking pale and ill, not the fresh vibrant woman she had been in the photos of her pregnant with Dean.

 

The photos seemed to trickle off at that point as if his parents had lost interest. There were several other albums, spotty collections of Dean growing up, and family events that featured his father and mother, but still very little clue as to what happened to Sam.

 

The faint stirrings of a headache tickled behind Dean’s brows and he carefully placed all the photo albums back into the chest and closed the lid. He could hear Castiel moving around in the outer rooms going from the living room to the kitchen and be suspected that the other man was getting dinner ready. Rising from his seat in the floor Dean walked into the bathroom and found a bottle of pain killers in the medicine cabinet. He shook two of the tablets out into his palm and washed then down with a glass of water.

 

 

Later that night after dinner Dean left Cas going over his lesson plans for the next week’s classes and took the Impala out for a spin. For some reason he couldn’t name he ended up at the Lawrence Memorial Gardens. On a whim Dean turned the car into the quiet paved road and drove aimlessly towards the center of the cemetery.

 

Suddenly an intense desire to see for himself that his mother’s grave was not where it had been in the other timeline Dean quickly took a right toward the mausoleum and adjoining rose gardens then a another right to the older part of the memorial gardens.

 

The Impala rolled to a halt on the thirteenth row of the second oldest section of the cemetery. It was here in his original timeline that his mother had been buried along side the plot that was her parents’ final resting place. Dean slid out of the seat, closing the door slowly and quietly.

 

Out of habit he tucked the Colt .45 he had been carrying into the waistband of his jeans. Setting off along the line of graves he counted inward until he reached the spot he was looking for. There to one side was a large granite marker bearing the names of Deanna and Samuel Campbell. Along side it was a smaller marker of white marble.

 

The top of the smaller gravestone was carved in the shape of a little lamb, laying beneath a tree. Taking a deep breath Dean leaned forward and gasped. Carved in the softly gleaming stone was the name Samuel Winchester and the dates of Sammy’s birth and death. The pain that twisted into Dean’s gut was not unexpected. He sagged forward as the air went out of his body in one long, silent groan.

 

 

Suddenly a sound caught Dean’s attention. He raised his head, hunter’s instincts kicking in immediately. From somewhere off to his right a second sound carried to his ears. A skittering sound almost like the ticking of nails as a dog ran over the cement. But Dean knew there were no dogs in the cemetery. With a ragged sigh he rose silently and quickly made his way from the gravesite to the walkway cutting through the grounds.

 

It was a clear dark night and he could see alone figure hunched over itself moving with deliberateness toward a fresh grave at the foot of the hill. Reaching behind him Dean tugged the gun out of his jeans and slipped quietly toward the twisted form.

 

He hadn’t gotten too far when the thing slithered to a halt head cocked, and Dean felt his nerves sing. Here, there… this was what he was truly meant for. How could he have thought of leaving this all behind? But how could he get back to where he had come from.

 

The wind shifted and he was downwind of the thing. The scent of decay was almost overpowering. And Dean realized that he was dealing with a common, garden variety ghoul The shambling thing turned from him, not interested in living flesh and made its shaky way down the sidewalk. Dean snorted, it was almost too easy.

 

Just as he leapt forward ready to fire one round into the creature a second figure appeared on the walkway, and Dean whirled. This figure was smaller, but quicker and he raised the gun. The moonlight cut through the trees illuminating the face of the woman in front of him. Dean gasped.

 

“Mom?” Dean hissed. Mary jerked to a halt, the gun in her hands dropping. Then she stepped around her son and fired a single shot into the ghoul. It jerked once and dropped to the ground. Mary Winchester looked down at the shattered body then flicked a quick glance back to her son’s face.

 

“Dean, what are you doing here?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing, Mom.” Dean said nudging the dead ghoul with the toe of his boot. She frowned but motioned to the corpse.

 

“Here, help me get this thing into the woods, and I’ll explain.”

 

“You have salt and lighter fluid?”

 

Mary winched, “How do you know about that.? Dean I think you owe me an explanation. Oh god, you didn’t bring Cas out here did you?”

 

“Of course not, he’s at home.”

 

As they stood just inside the tree line watching the ghoul’s body burn down to ash Dean turned to his mother. “You weren’t really at Aunt Lola’s were you?”

 

“Dean, please you can’t let your father know about this. He wouldn’t understand. How the hell did you find out?”

 

Taking a chance Dean sighed, “I read the journal.”

 

He flinched at her narrowed eyes, but he knew that it was true that his mother had kept a journal in this timeline just as John had done before. Frowning Mary kicked through the ashes then gathered up the salt canister dropping it back into her bag. Dean took the canvas bag from his mother and followed her back to Sam’s grave.

 

“I know you made a deal, Mom.”

 

“It was never supposed to be like this Dean.”

 

Angrily Dean tossed the bag at her feet, “You let old Yellow Eyes kill Sammy.”

 

“No!” Mary cried, “No it wasn’t him. Please Dean you have got to believe me. It was not the demon. I don’t know exactly what happened.”

 

“Then tell me what you do know. Please Mom I’ve got to know what happened.”

 

“When you brother was six months old, the demon did come to collect. The yellow eyed demon. I tried to stop him, but I was too late. He got away. At first I didn’t think that anything was wrong, but then a few nights later. There was another man…maybe another demon. I don’t know. He took Sammy, Dean, took his soul right out of his body. Everybody thinks it was one of those crib deaths, but I know he was taken.”

 

“Another demon?”

 

Mary nodded, “I guess but he didn’t feel like a demon. At first I thought he was a kidnapper. He looked human…a big black man in a dark suit.”

 

“Big black man…was he bald?”

 

“Yeah,” Mary shifted bending down she tugged her journal out of the canvas bag. Tucked into the back pocket was a folded piece of paper. On one side was written Dean Winchester in bold block printing. “He left this in the crib. I’ve never understood it.”

 

With trembling hands Dean lifting the sheet of paper, unfolding it along the single crease. The paper was as crisp and clean as if it had been written hours before not years ago. The note was written in the same neat, bold block printing.

 

_It could not come to pass. Take your reward righteous man, and be satisfied that the world is safe._

 

Mary caught the sheet of paper as it slipped out of her son’s fingers. “Do you know what it means?”

 

“Yeah, go home Mom. Dad has been missing you real bad.”

 

“Dean…”

 

“No go home Mom. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Silently Mary gathered her belongings and trudged back up the hill to her car. Dean walked slowly back to the tiny gravestone. Settling on the ground he pulled his jacket close, shivering in the cool night breeze. Rolling to his knees Dean stroked a palm over the smooth marble stone. “They did it. Those self-righteous dicks really did it. What was Cas some kind of sacrifice?  Oh god…Sammy.”

 

 

Suddenly the world shifted and Dean groaned. The cool night breeze gave way to scorching heat, and Dean gasped in a lungful of sulfur smelling air. Sam was standing in front of him, back to the yellow stone wall of the old ruins. Turning his head Dean cast his glance from his brother to the figures crowded around the door. Four demons bathed in red light and blood grinned at him, and Dean could see the dark black stab wounds in the angel’s chest.

 

“No!” he cried out as Castiel’s head lolled lifelessly. Sam chuckled pulling Dean’s attention back to the thing that would never be his little brother again. “Well, how was the trip to Neverneverland, Dean?”

 

“Why?” Dean hissed retching as one of the demons dipped his fingers into the dark fluid pooling on Castiel’s chest and painted his face.

 

“Why what? You should know. The only way that you can escape opening the first Seal Dean is for you to never go to hell. And you have to be in a position where there’s nothing to tempt you into making a deal. In that world the angels were a little more proactive, that’s all. And Castiel was a willing sacrifice. He gave up his Grace for you because it was preordained. A little reward. I can keep the dimensional portal opened for a few more minutes, Dean. Take your pick, here or there?”

 

“I want…I can’t…please Sammy.”

 

“Go Dean…go. It’s done here. I am what I am.” Suddenly the tall figure whirled, his eyes drifted close  then opened. Dean could see the yellow glow fade for just a second, replaced by soft hazel. “All your life you did for me, Dean. You gave up everything to be the good big brother. Let me be a good brother too. Take him and go.”

 

Closing his eyes Dean nodded. Immediately the hot blast of air faded once again into the soft cool breeze. Dean shifted falling back against the marble stone. The cold unyielding figure scraped against his skin. With shaky legs Dean pulled himself to his feet staggering back up the hill to his car.

 

 

The house was softly lit when Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway. Through the open drapes he could see the slender form of his spouse bent over the table in front of the sofa. Probably working. Glancing at his watch Dean was surprised to see that it was almost mid-night. At least it was Friday so Cas could sleep in the next day.

 

Castiel looked up as Dean came into the room. A frown creased his face and quickly he rose to his feet, “Honey are you all right?”

 

Dean smiled tiredly then pulled the smaller man into his arms. “No…I don’t think so.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I went to the cemetery…to see Sammy.”

 

Cas frowned, “I wish you would let me go with you. You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, Dean.”

 

With a smile Dean squeezed Castiel’s shoulders, “Yeah, my own little guardian angel.”

 

The other man’s eyes widened, “What’d you say?”

 

Swallowing hard Dean shook his head, “Nothing baby. Can we just go to bed.”

 

“I am a little sleepy,” Cas said with a smile. Dean grabbed his hand pulling the other man along behind him.

 

“Well, I’m not.”

 

Giggling Cas tugged free, “Race you.” 

 

He sprinted for the bedroom door leaving Dean standing in the hallway. Dean grunted as a smile crawled across his face, “Oh hell yeah.”

 

The End


End file.
